Surprises
by blackvelvet97
Summary: When Alice bumps into a mystery man in the woods, their fate becomes entwined in the strangest of ways...especially when she realises he is a character from her favourite tv show! (Rated T for angst.)
1. Showers

Sometimes I wonder whether the events of the past few days actually happened, I only need look at my injuries to see that they did.

My life used to be simple, it simmered down to the basic mundane routine. Get up, shower, breakfast, college, home, dinner, facebook, go out with friends, return late, brush teeth, sleep. Not bad for the average human, it was simplistic but kept me happy. Weekends could vary, yet somehow the routine remained. Sunday was by far my favourite though. The average college-bound teen cannot party on sunday, for fear of a hangover stretching into monday. This was my day to relax, lie in late amd watch crappy sunday afternoon television.

But one particular sunday will stay with me forever. I will never be able to tell another soul, they will think me mad, stuck on the wrong side of sanity. I don't care, this memory and the days that unfurled after it changed my life. I just can't work out if it was for the better.

A few days earlier...

"Clara...Oswin...Oswald. Watch me run!" A girl was staring intently a the last moments of the doctor who christmas special. She sighed elaborately and brought her knees up to her chest as the familiar credits rolled down the screen. Not a sound could be heard throughtout the house, even the clock that sat on the lone speaker seemed silent; waiting until the girl officially declared her favourite show over. She leaned back on the red cotton sofa and mewed, stretching her arms, legs and arching her back. After a moment she sighed again and collasped in heap, legs dangling off the edge of the seat. The clock got louder, the fridge through the open door to her kitchen seemed to let out a long electrical buzz. Everything could breathe again.

The girl continued to watch the television screen, silently thanking her mother for replacing their haggard old boxmonster for the new flatscreen. In her slumped position she couldnt see the mirror that hung high opposite the sofa, another sigh. She was meeting her friend in less than an hour and was still in her disney pyjamas, her brown curly hair was immitating a birds nest, and managing to do a better copy. The girl twisted onto her stomach and let her slim body hang over the arm of the couch. She stole a glance around the room. Two red sofas, arranged along the walls in an L shape both partly facing the tv, which sat in the furtherest corner of the room, diagonal across the wall intersect. The bland white paint that covered the wall wickedly contrasted the 42inch black tv set.

She would like nothing more than to stare mindlessly at it all day, watching reruns of doctor who and eating icecream. To lose herself in the fantastical adventures and entirely forget her recent failed relationship. But life moves on and she had a promise to keep. After one final stretch she jumped to her feet and made busy collecting this mornings breakfast bowls. After unceremoniously dumping them on the plastic kitchen counter in her oblong, slightly damp kitchen, she walked back through the front room and out of the other door. Still riding the wave of newfound energy she took the stairs two by two, using the banister to pull herself up.

"...under my umbrella...ella...ella. Eh eh eh" she sang softly as she vaulted the stairs. She smirked slightly as she passed the entourage of family photos lining the stairway. At the top step she paused, one image that always stood out was the fat baby with no neck. The blue eyed bundle of joy beamed out of the aged photo frame. A sparkle in her eyes. The girl had always admired the brightness of those eyes, she smirked again and stroked the picture.

"I was so cute, where did it all go wrong?" she murmured to herself, a smile still playing around the corners of her mouth. Her hand fondly traced the photo frame as memories of childhood scurried through her mind, one particular memory made her grimace and she flung an anxious look to the ceiling. There was the entrance to the attic, positioned right at the top of the stairs. It made it impossible to get up there, so nothing had ever been done to convert it. No one wanted to make use of a room that you could break your neck trying to get to. She rounded the corner and left the photo. She hurried to the bathroom past the attic door at the top of the stairs. Once in, she slammed the door shut and bolted it. Only then could she let out the breath she didn't realise she had been holding. The attic did not hold nice memories, but they would stay with her none the less.

She slumped down the door and tried to relax. The sudden movement caused a towel hanging off the nearby radiator to become dislodged. It fell on her knees and caused her to jump backwards. Seeing as the door was locked the back of her head crashed into it with a resounding thud.

"Aw man...fu..fiddlesticks!" She cradled her head on her knees, arms protectively encircling it. After the intial fright subsided she continued to curse. She decided the attic was officially the root of all evil and the causer of bad luck, quite possibly a portal to hell itself. She couldnt help but smile a little, it was going to be one of those days. This time the smirk did not quite reach her eyes though, the path blocked by temporary pain and memories. But no one would be able to even tell whether she was smiling, due to her knees smothering her mouth. Not that there was anyone there even to enquire as to whether she was smiling, and surely a rational person would not think her to be smiling after such a thump on the head. She giggled at the thought. To undermine and argue with oneself suggests a rather loose grip on sanity and could very easily be taken in the wrong way. Yet she thoroughly enjoyed the conversation.

"I am bonkers. And I should really be getting ready..."She mumbled through her kneecap. With a heavy laden sigh she drew up her head and stood up with a jump. Too fast a movement for a head injury. The world around span momomentarily.

She groaned.

After her head finally stopped spinning she stripped, and stepped into the shower. Once on, the hot water immediately soothed all aches and pains. It lulled her mind into a dreamlike state, her muscles relaxed as the power of the water washed away all her previous fears. She forgot about the attic. Her eyes remainded closed as she stood there, not bothering to move, just enjoying the massage provided by the pins of water on her back. The shower curtain rippled slightly. Life couldn't get any simpler.

"ALICE! Stop wasting the water, you know we're on a meter now!" a voice yelled up the stairs. The girl in the shower sighed, grabbed the shampoo and started working on her hair.


	2. Crash

The spaceship lurched violently to the side, nearly throwing its occupant across the dark grey console. The man supposedly driving the machine grinned wildly and span round to the opposite switchboard. Red bulbs flashed.

"Ah if I could just remember the recallibration nodule setting before the vortex manipulator reaches..." The control room leveled out and the alien stood back, scrunching his nose, left hand squeezing his chin. He hunched over the nearest switchboard, momentarily fascinated by the one flashing red bulb. He tapped it twice.

"Hmm, well that was...unexpected." He drew out the sound, hoping something else would happen, but the cylindrical cone in the middle of the control panels hummed merrily as though nothing had ever been out of place. He waited a moment more.

"I thought there might be fireworks...or even a little smoke?" He sighed, and checked the monitor. Four black dots moved lazily across the sonar screen, they were still tracking him! He pushed up his sleeve to reveal a recent bitemark. The Shree were known to mark their victims, nothing could escape their grasp. He stepped back and scratched his head. Fighting the urge to pace. They had locked onto the ships signature but weren't attacking. Yet moments ago they were firing everything they had at his beloved ship. He stroked the edge of his most constant companion affectionately.

"Always looking out for me, aren't you dear?" he smiled, waited, then sighed. She could never reply. An alarm rang out urgently and broke his thought pattern. Flashing his high voltage smile, he ran round to the other side of the control panel, clapping as he went.

"Thrusters full power," he flicked three yellow switches flamboyantantly, "stabilisers on," he jiggled the gearstick, "shielding...failing?" he double checked the monitor and grasping it firmly in both hands. "What?" his head span back and forth between the screen and the control panel. Four black dots in the distance firing at him again. No shields. He shook the monitor.

"No no NO! Not now, wait what?" He stared at the monitor for three full seconds. "Primary safety functions manually overidden? What! I haven't touched the..."

A prolonged beep signalled high speed incoming objects. The man threw his hands up in the air. Alien technology. No shields. He cursed aloud at the ineffectiveness of wood against proctecting oneself from a space-range nuclear warhead. He kicked the console.

"Oh...you had to get stuck on the police box setting didn't you! Just the AVERAGE earth-type wood, easily foiled by termites and most intergalactic bad guys..." he paced as the tumble of words spilled from his mouth, limping slightly. The prolonged beep sharpened into a high-pitched squeal of metal on metal. After the sound returned to the normal panic level, he realised his mistake.

"I'm sorry dear, if I lose you... I have nothing. I would be stuck, and most probably dead." He stopped pacing and ran his hands through his hair. The man looked around his empty ship.

"You never reply" he murmured softly. A moment of silence passed, only the buzz of electronics and the synchronised drumming of his heartbeats could be heard. He suddenly felt all of his years. The constant loss, the neverending pain and the running. Always the running. He should just end it. He should give up, the world didn't need him, no one needed him. Why bother? They always died, no matter what he did. In fact he probably caused their deaths, they wanted to impress him, help him, die for him. He would just let the warheads hit. He wanted out.

The ship lurched sideways on impact causing the man in the tweed jacket to stumble backwards and crash into the square railing. The familiar shot of adrenalin coursed through his system. The ship switched to autopilot and immediatly began to set a course for the nearest centre of gravity. Earth.

The man lay on his side, groaning. Flames consumed the control room, the airlock had broken in the upper chambers and a few bedrooms had been ejected to maintain airpressure. Sparks flew and the tardis lurched to left, narrowly avoiding another missile. She needed a driver. She needed him.

The man slid across the floor and hit his head on another railing. Blood ran down the front of his head, but the final shreds of self preservation roused him into action.

He jumped up and shook himself. His eyes had lost their boyish charm as they surveyed the damage. Flames, ringing in the ears and smoke. He chuckled, verging on the edge of hysteria.

"Be careful what you wish for." he laughed. The self loathing kicked up a notch. He deserved to lose the tardis. That way his last friend would be gone and he would finally be alone. They always left him. His vision blurred slightly and he toppled forward, almost collapsing onto the control panel. Then he remembered it. His eyes lightened and he felt grounded once more. He would not give up. No one could ever force him to do that. A sharp pain came from his left side. Internal bleeding. He sighed, making a mental note to deal with it later. One problem at a time.

"Righto...the bite induces strong emotions" he held his stomach and limped round to the other side of the control panel, "...to unbalance their victims and make them..." he gritted his teeth and reached for the monitor, "...easy prey." he grunted and activated voice command on the screen.

Just stop. Let yourself go. Why not open the doors and watch your impending doom. The warheads are almost here, enjoy your death. Revel in it. He could feel the psychic poison seeping through his body, starting in his arm, spreading through his system. It whispered in the back of his mind.

"Impending doom...hah! You just want me to think that." he threw back his head and laughed, almost losing his balance in the movement. You want this, you want death. Think of Amy, you lost her. You doomed her to wander a time she should have never seen. You need death, you want it. Just open the doors and it will comfort you. This is your time.

"Except, its not. Hah! What you are forgetting in this scenario, what you seem to have misread, what you have underestimated is ME!" he grabbed the nearest hammer and whacked the tetris cube on the console. All the fires went out. "I am extremely clever. I am the last timelord and I KNOW how many people I've MURDERED!" He viciously toggled the gearstick, reversing the gravity field surrounding the ship and sending all the warheads flying back towards the four Shree ships. Three were destroyed in a cataclysmic explosion. They battle field was near enough to the earth that people would notice, but wouldn't feel the effects. Hopefully.

"And I'm good at it." he sighed, the remnants of the poison evaporated as those who were controlling it died. He began to think clearly. His rage faded and he briefly mourned the lives he had just taken. No one should use his rage against him. Ever.

An alarm rang out. No shields. Explosion. No shields. Wood. Explosion. He had about five seconds before it hit him. That's when his stomach reminded him of his injuries. White hot pain rushed through his whole being. The pressure in his torso heightened. The purple blush of the violent hemorrhaging beginning to tinge his skin. But it wasn't enough to trigger the dreaded healing process. He collasped on the floor unable to think coherently. The alarm drowned out his screams. He managed to push the pain away long enough to get out two sentences.

"Voice Command: activate shielding," the three yellow switches flicked back to their original position. The alarm stopped. "Oh, that explains quite a lot." The man smiled and passed out on the floor, head bleeding and his ship hurtling towards Earth.

The explosion cleared. Astronomers were already marveling at the 'asteroid shower' that had passed through the milky way so close to home. No one could see the lone black spherical ship against the night sky. No one could hear the creature on board screaming promises for revenge. No one could imagine how the next few days would unfold.


	3. Madness

_Okay, so I'm super super super sorry for not posting this sooner! Exams have slowed me down considerably and I just wasn't happy with it. I have re-written this four times so far and am still not particularly excited about the prospect of posting it. Please just make it through this one-I promise the next one will explain more about his crash and plot._

_Big thanks to Llama and Corgi for proof-reading and making me post this!_

"Mum, I'm heading out, be back by like..." I mumbled the last few words, that left things open to interpretation, I could be back early or late. A smile played across my lips. It didn't really matter though, at seventeen and during the long summer I could come and go as I liked. I stepped out of the front door and swivelled to lock it behind me, Ma was dyeing her hair and so wouldn't be downstairs for a while. God forbid someone walked in and I hadn't locked up properly. I would be very grounded, very quickly. Still the smile never left my smug cheeks, home anytime I wanted; bliss.

_Oh the sneakiness of me._

Sadly some unknown force watching clearly didn't agree, as no sooner had I thought those few words, it began to rain. Why was it that every time I try to be remotely happy or childish the world chose to be serious? My key got jammed in the door and I was stuck in the mild rain, my hair was already threatening to go frizzy.

_Ugh, the mysterious forces that govern the universe are in league with my mother. Punishing me with your rain will do no good!_

"God, I need to go out." Talking to yourself was supposedly a sign of madness.

"I completely disagree, talking to yourself can be inherently helpful when yourself is mightily confused as to why they are standing in a street talking to a girl as mad as yourself." I turned around, my key still in the door. The sight that confronted me was one I had longed for since before I could remember, my heart ached and beat wildly in my chest. I just couldn't believe it, I had scripted and re-scripted this meeting in my head for over five years. And now that the moment has arrived, I simply stood there speechless, like a moron.

_No way._

Standing in front of me was him. The Doctor. My Doctor. With slightly ruffled hair, sticking out at odd angles. His cheeks were rosy red as though he had been running and one hand was tucked neatly in his jacket. The iconic tweed jacket that had made so many girls frantic with delight, longing for the day they too could take a trip to the stars. I swept my gaze over his image, raking in every tiny detail you could never see on screen. He was here, in my front garden, talking to me. I leaned forward and poked him.

He stared at me questioningly for a moment before hesitantly extending his other hand.

I just stared at it.

He very quickly withdrew it and scrunched it into a ball. His eyes were bright, and I found myself wondering how Matt Smith managed to get that aged look, like they'd seen too much. My Uncle had the same sort of look, being a police officer in central London meant he saw things, things that stained his soul.

"Matt Smith?" He drew out the words, playing around with their feel on his tongue. I smiled at his confusion.

_God, actors these days, they get so caught up playing their roles._

His nose creased in the cutest fashion and I had to literally stop myself from enveloping him in hug and never letting go. I had watched him almost stalkerishly for the past few months, waiting for his return and dreaming of the moment I could have an adventure with him. Obviously I never thought it would actually happen yet here he was, as perfect as ever, right in front of me.

_I freaking love my mates. They must have set this up...or I'm hallucinating. _

"Ah, you see," He did his doctory hand gesture thing that I so loved, " I think we have somehow in our brief exchange of information reached a miscommunication, I am in fact me not anyone but me and your regard of me being not me is most discombobulating." He stopped for a moment and his mouth formed a comical 'o' shape. I smiled warmly, he was simply enthralling. The Doctor, (for I had decided to call him this merely for my amusement) tilted his head at me, frowning ever so slightly. I coughed, indicating the fact he had broken off his conversation seemingly mid-sentence. His eyebrows raised in remembrance.

"New word" he grinned ecstatically and took a step closer to me. I refused to budge, shock and a strange elation coursed through me. This was my Doctor...

..._sort of._

I stepped forward and poked him again, just to be sure. My finger made contact with scratchy material. It seemed too weird, why would Matt Smith just turn up here, even with persuasion from my friends it seemed strange. I peered at him and tried poking his nose. His hands grabbed mine rather forcefully before I reached my goal and held them inches from his wonderfully familiar features.

"My nose." He pouted slightly, like a small child.

_He wasn't really here was he?_

"Hey now, sorry I don't see how I am not allowed a claim to reality seeing as you are clearly the unhinged one." He paused for a moment, squinting his eyes in pain. They clouded over as if he were remembering something, then he shuddered. "Perhaps comparing how far we have unhinged ourselves into madness possibly isn't the best thing to compete with when it comes to me. Although for a human you do seem a little" he sniffed airily in my direction "weirder."

_Excuse me, look who's talking._

"I'm not Human, it doesn't count."

I stared at him. The man was delusional. Here was Matt Smith, pretending fervently he was an Alien. Sure that was effectively his job but seriously, how can he say it with such conviction?

"Not Matt Smith" he whined.

My brain had enough, it had come to the point where I had to decide whether to call the police or play along with the actor and risk being made a complete fool of. To choose the Doctor or reality-it wasn't even a choice. I smiled, about to tell him my name. In that moment all the colour drained from his face, he wobbled slightly. The grip on my hands tightened.

I looked at him properly and noticed things that shock had hidden before. There was a small cut above his left eye. His hair was grimy and matted, in some places stuck to his clammy forehead. Those beautiful eyes slid in and out of focus, he shook himself slightly and leaned forward.

"Do you mind if I..." he trailed off and fell on top of me.

_Do you hate it? I sort of do..._

_Critique totally welcome! _

_Blackvelvet97_

_xxx_


	4. Fear

_Hello...sorry for the wait again. I wrote one chapter of epic proportions which took forever and have decided to split it in three. This is the first part. No particular doctor plot, but it's vital for part 3 which does in fact contain a conscious timelord! I'm editing part 2 tonight, it'll be up tomorrow._

_Hope you enjoy! _

_**"Do you mind if I..." he trailed off and fell on top of me.**_

"Jesus Christ" I slung my arms around his waist and tried in vain to hold him upright. It was a pretty useless battle, he was taller than me and heavier, then again I wasn't going to let go considering who it was. A few seconds later I had managed to manoeuvre us into a relatively well balanced, if slightly strange, bear hug. His entire weight was balanced on my left hip, one hand snaked around his waist, the other had a tight grip on his back, having been slung over his shoulder in the hurry. It was very awkward and put a strain on muscles I didn't even know I had.

He lolled slightly to the left as our position became compromised by a light breeze.

_Jeesh-you're surprisingly heavy for such a lanky guy_.

With a grunt I locked my arms around his middle and hefted him up to a vague standing position, easing the pressure at my hips. It wasn't the easiest or most comfortable pose but I felt a hell of a lot more stable.

"Alright Buddy, next goal is the door." He probably couldn't hear me, but I needed to voice aloud my ambitions to make them more doable. I barked out a laugh-those had been my first words.

The air seemed to still and the rain stopped for a few milliseconds.

Those had been my first words.

_How did he have a conversation with me?_

I shivered slightly and turned into the mop of messy brawn hair laying on my shoulder.

_No._

Those **had** been my first words.

_Which means...wait no even he can't do that._

There was a way I could check. But I shouldn't check. Even merely entertaining the thought that this man could maybe possibly be what he had pretended to be was simply insane. Aliens, spaceships, mind-reading, that stuff didn't exist.

What had he said to me?

"_**...**__**I don't see how I am not allowed a claim to reality**_**..**"

A claim to reality. Was he real? It was impossible. He couldn't possibly exist. He was a character, in a television program. Matt Smith was an actor. It was absurd. But I couldn't help the niggling little voice at the back of head, secretly wishing, hoping.

_It wouldn't hurt to check though...would it?_

I tightened my grip on his waist with one arm, the other slid around to his chest. He made no sound to indicate awareness of the movement. My heart thumped unevenly, clammy palms and a slight shortness of breath overtook me.

_Pull yourself together girl, you'll only be disappointed and embarrassed when this turns out to be wishful thinking._

I scolded myself and focussed on the task at hand. Checking his identity could wait until I was sure he was okay. Human or otherwise, passing out was never a good thing. My arms were already wet from hugging his sodden shirt. He would probably get a cold.

_I might get one too at this rate._

I shuffled around slightly, tottering backwards with my heavy cargo. The man's body lolled to the left and he sunk slightly down my chest. I screamed and almost dropped him.

_He's not her you nitwit. Don't you dare even think about it._

But so cold.

Somehow his forehead found its way into the crook of my neck, his skin brushed mine sending jolts down my spine. It was like fresh snow, numbing my skin. I had only once touched someone this frozen before.

_Don't go there._

I couldn't help it. The images of the attic and all that had unfolded there came to me, the suffocating scent of death and all its dark horrors. I had called and called but no one came, no one heard. She lay there in that damned mirror, dying over and over again. The great ornate beast of oak that lay lodged between the baby clothes and Christmas decorations.

_Focus. Not there now. _

"Nuughh" he groaned quietly, head buried in my slightly damp brown curls. I took in a deep breath and brought my attention back to him. We shuffled along the path, it seemed to stretch out into miles. Decades past in the space of a few minutes, my shuffling and repositioning him, then shuffling again, a snail had most likely over taken us in the race to the door. He still lay in the sleep of the unconsciousness but every so often, when the attic popped back into my head he would moan or twitch in my arms, pulling me back to the present.

_Thank you._

This awkward struggle continued for a while longer, in that time I had adopted an easier dragging method that meant skin contact was kept to an absolute minimum. With an enormous effort on my part we reached the door, the still very much locked door.

_Damn._

I now faced an extremely difficult decision. This man, my on-screen hero, the puzzle that I could never solve, my quick witted idiot...would have to be dumped on the floor. There was no other word for it than dumped. He was heavy and I was tired. I could yell for my mother but that brought a whole other spin to the world of awkwardness his mere existance provided. She may well call the police, as I had jokingly, on several occasions, made all manner of remarks of what I would do if I ever got my hands on him, my elusive Doctor.

If he was the Doctor.

But if he was indeed the Doctor then what the hell was the BBC program about, and good lord, how on earth, (or not as the case may be) did they film it?

_If he is real, then maybe she was too._

The man in my arms hiccuped softly in his sleep. My mind had wandered to her again and that damn attic. I needed to stop doing that. Thinking about everything all at once hurt my brain, life, death, fear, timey-wimey stuff; I was no timelord. I couldn't deal with it. Death was just plain scary. I sighed.

_If you don't get him inside now, he he'll freeze to death._

The rain had considerably picked up in my minutes of rambling minds and shuffling, enough to soak the front of my top and arms. I flung a desperate look over my shoulder, the door was still firmly locked.

"I am so sorry." I squinted my eyes shut and lowered him as gently as possible to the cold hard floor. Naturally it was a graceful as an elephant on a tight rope. With a heavy thud his body was dumped on the ground.

_This is insane, totally and utterly bonkers._

I lept up the step to the front door, my key was still jammed in the lock. I gave it a sharp twist and fiddled with the handle. I wasn't usually so clumsy but after an extraordinary amount of cursing the door finally gave in. I shoved it open and used my bag as a door stop, keeping it open wide enough to drag a body through. I calmed my nerves and spun on the spot.

_Part two tomorrow! _

_Reviews absolutely make my day!_

_Blackvelvet97_

_Xx_


	5. Sobs

_This is re-post with the edits from the reviews, (Big thank you to Wyona Fandam.) Sorr y about those, my usual proofreader was a bit tired at the time of editing. Also, I just wanted to say my OC is a whovian, usually in a world where the Doctor is only on-screen. Can't elabourate too much as to why the Doctor is there, (plot bunnies are going wild!) but her knowledge of fandoms, is well, sort of necessary. (Or maybe I just like her being all knowledgeable XD )_

_Anyhow, thank you for all the reviews so far! Critique is most welcome, anything to make it read better._

_I just realised I haven't written a disclaimer. So, as much as I would love to own the Doctor... (and the other vaguely important characters), I don't. :( _

_I'm really sorry that part 2 is a couple of days late. It didn't sound right, so I rewrote it...a lot. I hope you forgive me!_

He was still there.

Properly still there.

Actually still there. The urge to lean down and poke him just to be one hundred and fifty percent sure was almost overwhelming. The more rational side of me realised if he was truly physically there and I wasn't having a mental break then I needed to help him. He was unconscious, it was raining and to be frank I had briefly looked up and down the road, there was no hide nor hare of the iconic, magical, fantastical blue box. The wonders that beheld inside those doors if it really existed would be breathtaking. I could go anywhere, meet anyone, do anything...

_Whoah, getting a bit ahead of ourselves here, are we not? You won't be doing anything if he's dead._

I shook myself. The rain had only briefly eased off and so every second he spent lying on the path was another second of water soaking through his already damp clothes, another second his core body temperature dropped a little further, another second closer to the point where I would no longer be able to help.

It scared me.

A shot of adrenalin coursed through my system. I needed to get him inside now. My legs jolted as I launched myself forward. For a moment his chest seemed too still. I sat down on my knees and brought my ear to his sodden shirt. I needed to hear the thumping of his heart, human, timelord, hell I couldn't care less.

_Please be alive._

A rugged breath ripped through his body. I sighed lightly, and paused. Breathing was good. Breathing meant he was somewhat still in the realm of living things. I didn't mean to do it, to check something as meaningless as identity in the current situation. But in this position I could hear them, the samba beat sung across the stars. Not a single drum, but a hectic rhythm that, although very weak, sounded like a tiny piece of heaven to my numb ears. Suddenly I was the one struggling for breath, my whole position in the universe changed drastically. I felt so small. Of all the universes, of all the species in the many distant stars, he had landed here. This double heartbeat proved it. He was real.

Life was different, things were so much bigger than they had been thirty seconds ago. I was even tinier than before, one of seven million compared to one single example of a species among billions of lifeforms that had to exist was infinitesimally small. The mudane stupid routine of my life seemed so insignificant in contrast. But I didn't care.

_I promise to help you, God knows what would happen if you died on my watch._

Somehow the image of millions of outraged Whovians sprung to mind. I almost giggled. I really didn't care, my life was important to me, but if I could then hell, I would definitely help my Doctor. Regardless of whether he knew me or not. And right now, he really needed my help. The seriousness of the situation hit me like a sledgehammer from nowhere. Here was the Doctor, would-be saviour to hundreds of thousands of planets, lying on the wet ground with shallow breathing and I was contemplating my place in the infinite possibilities of space?

_Stupid girl._

I lifted my head and crawled around his body until my knees were level with his shoulders. I braced myself for the chill of his skin and slid my arms beneath his armpits, hoisting his upper body off the ground. The weight of him nearly buckled my legs, but desperation lent me strength. I dragged him across the path and yanked him up the steps into the warmth of my home. It was so much quicker than the shuffling.

Once in I swung his legs into the dining room and laid his head gently at the bottom of the stairs. There was a muffled singing floating down the hall, Mum must still be in the bathroom.

_Oh God._

I kicked my bag out of the way and shut the door as quietly as possible. She couldnt see him, not here. I had no idea how she would react. There was very little in the way of hiding spaces in my house, my room was the only viable option seeing as it actually had a lock. My room also happened to be up 27 creaky stairs and directly across the landing from the bathroom.

_Brilliant._

There was no other option. I muttered under my breath and leant down to grab his cold body again. The rain had left him sticky and his quiet murmurs were calmer somehow. He was slipping away.

_No. No. No._

Right, now was the time to move. We were going to get up the stairs if it killed us, which was actually a possibility for him at the present moment in time. I ignored the smushy feeling and general dampness of his clothing, my primary priority overruled everything else. We traversed the stairs in an uncomfortable manner, I would pull him, his head would bump the next stair and his feet would get caught on the rug. It sounded relatively simple but halfway up the single flight and I was absolutely shattered. I no longer cared that his boots made a racket with each step, or that my own footfall sounded as though I'd gained forty pounds. The only thing that mattered was reaching the top.

"Hey sweetness, what exactly are you doing? Did Lucy cancel?" my mother called from the bathroom.

_Bugger._

What to say, would she come out? I could get away with it if she didn't come out. I stayed frozen, the doctor lying at my feet. My arms were burning with the effort of keeping his upper body resting upright against my legs. There was no way my voice could sound like anything other than a wheeze. The entourage of babys along the wall stared at me, their sly grins seemed sour in my current circumstances. Maybe I could make it to the top without answering. I bent down and locked my arms around his chest and heaved. I was fully dragging him backwards up the stairs, his feet bumped along the steps as we ascended.

It was worse than doing cross country in PE. I literally thought I was going to throw up or pass out.

"Alice?"

_Please don't come outside, oh please please please._

Breathe. Pull. Breathe. Pull.

"Alice?!" she sounded worried. I had to think of something soon or else she would unlock the bathroom door and find me 3/4 of the way up the stairs carrying a sodden Doctor. My panic reached a new level when I heard a creaking from the bathroom, indicating she was getting up.

"Yeah Mum, I'm still here, she...er...overslept" my voice was very strained, even to me.

Breathe. Pull. Drop.

_Damn._

His head landed with a loud thud on the nearest stair, arms stiff at his sides. He let out a loud groan as I grappled with his stupid scratchy jacket, it had made a criss cross pattern on my skin under the weight of his shoulders. I cursed under my breath as he slid down another step. Another bump on the head he really didn't need. I was really doing a spiffing job of looking after him.

There was another suspicious creak from the bathroom.

"Hmm, Well why didn't you answer first time Al-Pal? What are you hiding?" her tone was light and teasing. I found my hold on his body again and hefted him up to our previous position. She would expect a reply, and soonish. I gripped him tighter and decided to drag him as far as I could, damn the noise. We successfully climbed five more steps. Well I climbed, he lay unconscious with his stupidly large feet catching on the stairs.

"Um...no."

_Seriously, could you sound any more guilty._

I didn't really understand why I didn't ask for her help. Maybe just the fact that danger and death followed the Doctor wherever he went, it wasn't his fault. Heroes must endure. But I loved my mother and I would not endanger her for the world. No, it was best this way. The Doctor would remain my secret, that's if we ever got to the top of the stairs.

"Alice Mabel Dorton, don't lie to me." She was still teasing...probably.

Breathe. Pull. Breathe. Pull.

The end was in sight, only three more steps until we reached the upper landing. She would be able to hear everything at this point. Of course now would be the time he started to come round.

"Where am..." he began to speak slurred words with a heavy tongue. His head lolled forward as he tried pushing up onto his elbows. He failed and nearly crashed down the stairs, only my hold under his arms kept him upright. He began thrashing in my arms, realising my restraining grip.

"Stop it..." I whispered into his mop of hair as one arm whacked into the bannister with his flailing.

_Aw man, she'll have heard that._

"Alice?" he stopped moving at the sound of her voice. Confident he wouldn't end up hurting himself, I let him slip from my grasp. He jumped up and tottered down a few stairs. The Doctor whirled around and looked at me questioningly. I motioned for him to be quiet.

"I'm fine Mum," I leaned forward and tugged at his arm, guiding him up the stairway, "Just sorting some things out." He let himself be pulled up the stairs with a very serious look on his face. I pushed him towards my room. He didn't take the hint.

_I'll make allowances seeing as you were almost dead ten minutes ago._

"Do these things involve dragging a dead body up the stairs?" Her voice was still relatively light, but a genuine question lay beneath the joke. I could hear her unlocking the bathroom door.

_Oh God._

I shoved him into my bedroom door, which opened with a slam. I gave him a push onto the bed and swung around to shut the door. I caught sight of my mother through the narrow opening left between the door and doorframe. She gave me a queer look.

I stuck my tongue out at her and she shook her head. Her hair was more of a priority than my odd behaviour.

_Thank the stars._

I watched her walk away with a gracious sigh. One problem dealt with, another lay slightly disheveled on my bed. I fully closed the door and locked it, in case my mum decided to burst in unexpectedly. I turned and took him in properly for the first time.

He was unconscious again, lying flat on his front and snuffling lightly. I smiled. The Doctor was in my room, on my bed.

_Check if he's alright you nitwit._

I gently turned him right way up and tucked a pillow beneath his brown flop of hair. He seemed much more healthy lying on my soft duvet. Colour was returning to his cheeks. I sat on the bed and checked his temperture. It felt oddly intimate to I push his fringe out of his closed eyes and place my hand on his face. His forehead was warm and clammy, not the best of signs but anything was better than the ice chill his skin held outside. I shivered and glanced in the general direction of the room that haunted my dreams. A wooden door and a sharp climb was all that seperated us.

The Doctor's body spasmed and he let out a stifled cry.

_Doctor? Oh God._

My attention shot back to him, there was little I could do as he shook violently on the sheets. I didn't know how to help. He cried silently, rocking left and right. I held him as tightly as I could but nothing stopped the tremours that ripped through his fragile frame. Tears rolled down my cheeks, I should have called an ambulance. I should have asked for help. Another spasm overcame him, his fists clenched in agony as his muscles betrayed him.

_Please don't die. _

I cried with him, clinging to his clenched body, willing him to be fine. Three more tremours came and went as we sobbed, not once did he open his eyes. I ended up on top of him, pinning him to the bed in an effort to stop his flailing limbs. It was the most horrendous thing I had ever done. In the end he whacked me off the bed with the strength of the spasms.

_Oh God. Oh God. Oh God._

I just watched in horror as he shook. My face was red and blotchy, the pain in his small gasps made me ache inside. I had to act. To help somehow.

There was nothing to do but stroke his forehead and soothe him with a bunch of lies. I couldn't stop the tremours before, I would be able to now.

"You're fine, shhh, it'll be okay." His eyes remained tightly squeezed shut as his body jerked. He whimpered slightly as I got closer, my mouth inches from his ear. I rubbed his forehead with my hand, never stopping the continuous murmurs of comfort.

"You're alright, I'm right here. I won't leave."

The shaking subsided eventually, but my tears didn't. It was all my fault. If I had got him inside sooner, maybe he wouldn't be in such a state. I should have asked for help.

_Stupid stupid girl._

Soon he lay still, breathing deeply from the exertion. I carried on drawing patterns on his skin with my hand, more to comfort me than him. What should I do now? I could hear my mum bumbling around below. Would she understand? I laid my head on his chest and listened to his hearts.

_You're out of your depth._

I cried harder and buried my face in his shirt. It was still wet.

_Review please! I will love you guys forever if you do. ^-^_

_Blackvelvet97_

_Xx_


	6. Numb

_**Thankyou for all the amazing reviews. I felt incredibly special! So this one is most definitely the longest piece I have written. The third part. It's incredibly angst ridden and I feel I should make a small warning-there is some mild horror in this. Ye be warned.**_

_**Sorry it took so long. Busy, busy, busy. *unidentified excuses* XD **_

_**I am currently dipping between three stories so whichever gets the most love will be the one continued next. **_

_**Here is your fill of horrid angsty Alice/Doctor mumbo jumbo. As promised he actually wakes up and stays awake! **_

_**Last point, please forgive me if I misuse terminology or somehow mess up certain medical procedures. I have embellished for dramatic purposes. **_

_**Enjoy! **_

The cogs in my brain began whirring. My hair usually retained moisture beyond that of any clothing, yet it was dry and the shirt was not. Why was the shirt still wet?

My hands must be lying to me. I sniffed into his damp shirt and tried to calm my sobbing. Any small puzzle, no matter how stupid, _stupid like me_, would help take my mind off this weird and horrific chain of events. Inwardly, I ran through everything; The Doctor, the attic, the fact I still hadn't yelled for help. The impossibility of his existance fought against my need for reassurance. It bubbled over inside me, I sobbed and sobbed into his fragile body.

"What is happening? Why are you here? Am I mad? Are you even real?" the questions never stopped, they poured out of me in an endless stream of whimpers and wails. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't comprehend it all. Who do you talk to when there's no one there, an empty shell of a person, practially dead. Broken.

_The Doctor fixes things._

_He is impossible. _

_The Doctor could help me._

_He is impossible._

_The Doctor makes me feel safe._

_He's impossible and dying._

Eventually I lost it. It was bound to happen at one stage or another. I categorised everything into a beautifully simple list of things I had to do. It seemed perfectly logical, my mind became numb to the breathing dead man at my fingertips. Emotions were locked away in a box and thrown into the deep recesses of my subconscious. I would deal with them in my dreams, but for now, my head was finally almost clear.

_I'm in shock._

I scrunched my hands into his shirt without lifting my head. It did seem damp. Damp and slightly sticky if I was entirely honest. Then again, his skin was still frozen, perhaps my fingers were just cold from the contact. I sniffed again. I had caught the beginnings of a cold outside, my face felt slightly clammy from the temperature that had already begun to rise within me. I fought the urge to cry as it swept over me and just tightened my grip on his chest. The box threatened to topple over.

_Be cold. Emotions ruin you. Calm now, hurt later._

I took a deep breath and rocked back onto my heels, pushing off the bed with my arms; they snaked off the body I had been clinging to so fervently. I jumped up and stretched my back, the dull ache I had inevitably got from carrying him earlier was beginning to show its ugly head. I opened my eyes and stole a quick glance at him. The Doctor was breathing shallowly on my bed, chest raising and falling to an erratic rhythm. I paused and slowly rubbed my face with my left hand, thinking on where to begin. I became distracted at my findings.

_Too much moisture._

My head was very clammy. Why was it so damp? I didn't feel too hot and it wasn't cold sweats, I would be shivering with that.It made no sense. I tried ignoring the unpleasant sensation, but my mind strayed too easily. I calmly swiped a finger across my brow and brought it eye-level with my face.

_Red._

I had blood on me.

_Bright red. Fresh._

He was bleeding. I strode closer to the bed and knelt quickly. In one swift movement I tugged his arms out of his jacket and tore the wet thing from his body. I hadn't seen it before, I hadn't paid attention, too caught up in feeling sorry for myself. Adrenalin combined with the odd detachment from my more emotional psyche led me to start unbuttoning his shirt. I no longer debated every action. The damp wasn't rain. I was too hysterical to take in the darkened colouring, faded brown and bright red. As more skin was revealed I almost gasped. His chest was purple, bruises adorned it like tattoos. They formed wicked shapes of dark twisted shadows, swollen and raw from the bumpy journey up the stairs. Two thick black lines cut across his middle, stretching from shoulder to waist where my arms had so tightly held him in place. The pressure of the wounds must have been excruciating.

_Be calm._

I was no medic but the colourful patterns screamed of the internal horrors and extensive bleeding within his torso. I remained calm. My fingers continued their path up his chest, unhooking each new button and staining the tips red with his blood. The shirt was ruined, not even with excessive amounts of scrubbing would the blood come out. Bleaching would ruin the colour and so was out of the question. I wondered how well vanish worked.

_Focus._

He made no sound whilst I explored his injuries, not a whimper. I took this to be a sign of how close to death the man was. It didn't perturb me. There was very little difference between a live and dead body. I had experience with both. My brain continued its observations, fueled by hormones and a need to categorise. He had a large wound below his left shoulder that had clotted over but was still weeping blood, most likely the fall onto the bed had reopened it. This seemed to be the cause of the majority of the blood on his body. It seemed strange, with a wound such as this, so close to internal pressurised cavity-he should have bled to death. Perhaps a Timelord's body worked differently.

I heard my mother yell from below and the front door slamming. I didn't remember her venturing downstairs, I must have been to emotional to hear. She was to leave and return after collecting the shopping and visiting my Aunt. She told me not to burn the house down. I did not reply, but paused for a moment while she locked the door. Once the audible rattle of the keys twisting in the keyhole had gone I decided to continue. It was best this way. If he did stop breathing I could much easier commit his body to the care of an ambulance without my mother fussing over me.

I wiped my brow and sighed. His blood had somewhat clotted on my forehead, making it sticky and unpleasant. I did not wish to see my reflection in the mirror, no doubt the blood would be smeared around my face. My heart started yammering in my chest, nonsense and emotions threatened to send me into a spiral of fear. I had his blood on my face. It was all over my hands and stuck to my eyelids. He was lying on my bed with internal bleeding and I still hadn't called an ambulance.

_Calm. I am not in danger. Death is part of life. Blood is mere anatomy._

This man was not someone I knew personally. This Doctor was a character in a television program for entertainment. The body before me had two hearts. It did not prove anything about his personality. I must treat him as such and not fall prey to emotions. The blood only proves we share the ability to bleed. Calling an ambulance would be disastrous because if he does indeed have two hearts, as I have already realised, then conventional methods of sustaining life may not work as well. He may have a different rate at which he burns off drugs and they could kill him with anaesthesia. I have to relieve the pressure myself and seal the ruptured blood vessels.

_Logic, use logic._

I reached the top of his shirt and pulled away the bow tie. I discarded it behind me and fully opened his shirt. The bruising was concentrated on his abdomen, turning a black colour in some areas. I knew the pressure would cause a high velocity blood spike, similar to that of a water pistol when I opened it up. Too many hours spent watching Grey's Anatomy was not the perfect education when trying to save a life, but it would have to do. A knife would easily cut him open, I also had some kitchen towels downstairs that could be used to pack the wound. However I had no knowledge of the inside of a human body, let alone a dual cardiovascular system.

_Now where had that come from?_

I dismissed the thought. Luck or my somewhat strained imagination must be playing a role in this scenario. I had no ligature nor clamps to bind the broken arterties. Let alone the knowledge to discover where the bleeding orginated from. I sat back on my knees and thought hard on what to do. He needed serious medical help, that much was apparent. I was guessing internal bleeding, the sickly palour of his face would indicate blood was going somewhere and the bruised chest and abdomen suggested those areas were under pressure. I had no previous experience in dealing with such wounds, yet failure to operate would result in death. My decision had been made.

I left him on the bed and made my way to the kitchen. My mother had forgotten her reusable shopping bag so I commandeered it. In went cleaning fluid, rubber gloves, various knifes, paper towels, tea towels, some matches, sowing needles and black mending thread. For good measure I threw in a roll of duct tape and a bottle of vodka. I briefly considered putting on an apron but settled for securing my hair in a scrunchie instead, the apron would most likely contain more bacteria and the chances for infection if he lived where high enough as it was.

I felt nothing as I climbed the stairs. I knew shock was protecting me and at this point I would have probably been immensely grateful, if I was capable of such an emotion. There was a slight buzz in my mind, a cold feeling. It was pain and death and fear, I was not scared but this fear was utterly paralysing. I looked down and realised my legs were no longer moving. I was stuck at the top of the stairs, breathing in the stale stench of sweat and grime. I heard a voice.

"Help me..." it cried in the cold and the dark. I felt nothing and everything. She was so alone and scared. Forever dying, being betrayed over and over. She needed help, she needed so much help. In the dark and the cold and the fire of death. It hurt her so much. But she had to you see, she had to die. She needed it as much as it needed her. I could hear her screaming above me. I could feel the glass bending, I could see her reach out and scrape her nails along the wooden floor.

_**MOVE.**_

I could feel her pulling her weight along the threshold of the mirror. She was so close to what she needed. So close to life. Above me the ceiling groaned and creaked. Something moved in the Attic. I was numb and cold, so cold. And hurt. It hurt. I was screaming. No, I heard someone screaming. It came from above. I needed to...move. I needed to listen and do something. I was helping someone. Someone needed me, she needed me. The dead needed me.

_**NO ALICE. MOVE.**_

My head hurt. It was a horrid hurt. The hurt was a voice and it shouted at me. Pain and blue and old. The voice kept yelling. Why wouldn't it be quiet. My arms were shaking, the bag was heavy, my legs wouldn't move. I came back to my senses a bit and realised where I stood. The tops of the stairs, below the attic. The ceiling vibrated as a loud thud echoed in the room above. It came again, closer to the attic door. I wasn't scared or cold. I was just numb. I wondered what it was and craned my neck up to look. Nothing yet. She screamed again and again, each thump was closer to the attic door. I was supposed to help. Help her?

_**NO ALICE. SONIC.**_

The sonic screwdriver that the Tardis had given me. I remembered that. I broke the last one, Prisoner Zero slobbered on it. Ugh. You would think with the amount of scrapes it had been through a bit a alien drool wouldn't hurt. But no, of course not. Shame really. I loved that sonic. I suppose new man, new sonic. Only fitting. But really I need to install a setting against slobber. That would be good. Anti-slobber. Ooh. Maybe an anti-wood while I'm at it. Wood is hard. And I...

_**WRONG, ALICE. FOCUS. SONIC.**_

I collasped to the floor breathing heavily. The bag landed upright, nothing spilled out or broke. The screaming had stopped and my head hurt. The voice made my head hurt. It was still yelling. So loud. I needed to find the sonic. Maybe then it would shut up. I was Alice. I was not cold. I was not a man. I was not dead.

_The Doctor will be soon though._

I froze. How had I forgotten that? I was helping the Doctor. Perhaps the shock was messing with my head. I briefly considered letting emotions back in but quickly concluded I would mostly likely start crying again, impairing my vision. I needed clear sight for the operation. I jumped up and dusted myself off before retrieving the bag. It only took four long strides before I had returned to his side. I placed the bag on the floor and let my body take over.

I opened the vodka bottle and poured a little over the knifes and rubber gloves. I pulled the pink marigolds on and used the remainder of the small bottle to wash his wounds and prep his abdomen. I then took the kitchen cleaner and haphazardly sprayed it across room in the vague hope it would make it cleaner. Time to open him up.

_**SONIC.**_

That noise was vaguely irritating as well as painful now. It was considerably quieter yet still made my head hurt. The Sonic Screwdriver, if it did work as suggested on the show, was still little use in the current situation. Unless it had a setting that stemmed bleeding in biological matter then it was completely and utterly useless. Then again, what did I know and why shouldn't it have that setting. The device was automated and could detect what function was needed in different circumstances, all I would need to do is point and press.

_Why do I know that?_

The ache in my head was growing more pronounced with every query, it hurt to think. So I decided not to. I sat down and swiveled around, reaching for his tweed jacket. My hand delved into the nearest pocket and I lost my arm up to the elbow in the material, a further prove the man could meddle with dimensions. I searched for a full thirty seconds before I came across the cylindrical metal device. It was cool in my hand. I gave it a rough tug to retrieve it from the depths of the pocket amd placed it by his arm.

Then, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, I grabbed a long smooth knife and slit his stomach open. I don't particularly remember much after that. There was a lot of blood, and a fair bit of screaming. I heard the metallic buzz of the screwdriver and then nothing.

_Panic. Sheer panic._

My eyes are closed now and I am breathing heavily. I am not doing anything. I think I'm crying again. I can't move. My body is drenched in his blood and I can't remember if he lived or died. I sit by the bed on my knees, daring myself to open my eyes. My hands are clutching something cold and hard, metal perhaps. I am shaking and I want my mum. The bed creaks slightly, as if someone had rolled over.

_He's alive?_

I open my eyes to a pair of green staring right back at mine. Bright and curious. The Doctor is sitting on my bed facing me, cross legged, battered and bruised but very much alive. He gives me a lopsided smile as my lower lip quivers.

"Hello." He smiles as he says it, his voice is gentle and a little bit strained. I stare at him for a few seconds and then give a small smile back as a single tear rolls down my cheek.

"Hi." My voice trembles but he smiles even wider. We look so strange, each torn to pieces in very different ways. His is bodily, everything is soaked in blood; his hair, his clothes, his very open chest. I blush slighty and drag my eyes down his body. A single pink scar covers his skin where I plunged the blade through. I hurt him and I had my hands inside him. I have his blood all over me. It all comes flooding back, flashes of red, tormented screams, the ripping of flesh.

"Oh God...I'm sss..so s..sorry" I cry and wail as he moves to hold me. His hands cradle my face while I shake and stutter.

"Shhh, hey now, you saved my life. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for you brave girl." I try to push him off but he only holds me tighter. The world blurs as I once again give in to my emotions. I am completely broken. I have done unspeakable things, my room is a mess of blood and tears. I can't do it anymore. I let my head fall into his lap as I sob. I drop the sonic.

"Sss..sorry" my snot and drool is coating his already ruined trousers, , mixing with the blood already stained there. He merely strokes my head and mumurs something I can't hear. We fall silent while my tears dry out and the physical exhaustion of the upset takes its toll. I feel my eyes closing, my mind drifting.

Suddenly he tenses. I have to know why and lift my head and to question him. His eyes are sad and dark. He pulls me up onto the bed and takes my hand. It's a tiny bit surreal. I have barely known him for more than two hours but we've been through so much. I've done so much.

_I can't take any more._

"Alice, I'm sorry. I really am. But you have to be strong for a little bit longer. Can you do that for me?" His tone is soft and urgent. I can't believe it. My mind is fragmenting and he wants me to pull it together? His eyes drill into mine and implore me to do as he says.

He is my Doctor. I have already done so much for him.

_What else do I have to lose?_

I nod and he relaxs a fraction.

"Good, because we need to go into the attic."

_**Little bit of a cliffhanger for you there, gosh I'm so mean. Just a quick word to say all those questions about Alice's freaky behaviour are answered next chapter. Also if I've made any spelling or grammar mistakes please point it out; this one is completely un-beta read.**_

_**Last point, thank you to all my lovely reviewers! You make my day, you really do.**_

_**Thoughts, criticism, general 50th excitment talk are all welcome in the review box! **_

_**Blackvelvet97**_

_**Xx**_


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